


I follow you (deep sea, baby)

by emotionalgoblin



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Depression, Discussions of deep sea creatures, Do they watch Finding Nemo in Belgium? They do now, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Self-Harm, kind of, self-harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-31 20:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalgoblin/pseuds/emotionalgoblin
Summary: The echo of Robbe’s yell sits heavy in the air as the door slams behind him. He feels Britt jump a little at the sound of it, faintly registers the murmurs that start up after the door closes. But all he can really hear is the raw pain and exhaustion in that voice that’s usually so quiet and gentle, so bitten back.--Basically filling in the gaps after S3E3 clip 10. I wrote this out of NECESSITY I tell you!
Relationships: Robbe IJzermans/Sander, Robbe Ijzermans/Sander Driesen, Robbe/Sander
Comments: 16
Kudos: 235





	I follow you (deep sea, baby)

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of this fic, let’s just pretend Robbe went though the regular door to sleep in one of the beds in the shared room rather than the private one w/the double bed. I was NOT observant enough to notice he did that on my own and saw it after I started writing. IT'S FINE EVERYTHING IS FINE.

The echo of Robbe’s yell sits heavy in the air as the door slams behind him. He feels Britt jump a little at the sound of it, faintly registers the murmurs that start up after the door closes. But all he can really hear is the raw pain and exhaustion in that voice that’s usually so quiet and gentle, so bitten back. 

He’s still frozen, staring at the door Robbe disappeared through (followed closely by Noor). His brain is racing, but on a loop: The uncontrollable power in Robbe’s voice — the sudden understanding of what that means and how much this boy contains. It’s fucked up, but he thinks about the sharp edge of Robbe’s voice that made him sound like he was going to cry, and he’s drawn to it. Sander sees a loose thread and wants to unspool it (then maybe just wants to hold him to his chest for a little while).

The tenderness of the thought has him jerking his eyes away from the door and out of his trance. He can’t look at Britt, so he gazes into the flames. 

"Wonder what that was about," she says pensively. 

Sander shrugs, shakes his head. Suddenly, the fire is too hot. He feels the need to get away like an itch under his skin. He wants to scoop Robbe up like a fucking Neanderthal and sprint into the sunset. But the feeling of Britt at his side reminds him how colossally impossible that is.

For the first time in recent history, Sander tells her he’s tired and draws away from the circle at the fire. She follows, quiet for once. 

Noor is curled around Robbe when they walk inside (a physical barrier, Sander thinks bitterly). He bites his tongue, tries to get ready for bed as quietly as possible but accidentally knocks into a bedpost and swears. Britt giggles softly and he squeezes his eyes shut.

After he’s absentmindedly kissed Britt goodnight and they’ve settled in, he pretends to sleep, listens to Robbe breathing. It sounds slow and measured and even. It sounds practiced. It sounds like Robbe heard him, heard him with Britt, and is doing his best to pretend he’s asleep.

Sander doesn’t blame him in the least, but he wonders how long this can go on for. He knows neither of them will be getting to sleep any time soon, knows Robbe can hear him breathing as well in such a small space. 

He wonders if Robbe is listening to him too, then chastises himself. If anything, Robbe is probably thinking about his parents. Sander is most likely the last thing on his mind.

But, still. He can't help but hope. All he wants to do is reach across the room somehow, to touch him, to coax out that soft smile again. 

He also wants to find out how to coax out more of that fire he heard in his voice, but minus the pain. Just the intensity.

He thinks about it. Then he thinks of the sight of Robbe biting his lip, looking down and back up, thinks of his wet eyelashes and dark eyes, and his mouth is so dry, and he's mystified.

Britt shifts next to him, makes a little noise in her sleep. He squeezes his eyes shut again.

Across the room, Robbe sniffs. Sander’s eyes shoot open, and he settles in for a long night of staring across the room into the dark, an ache in his chest.

—

Robbe can hear that Sander's awake, as usual. He’s been able to hear it for the last couple days, really, but he’s usually a deep enough sleeper that the uneven breaths and rustles of movement don’t keep him awake for too long. 

Tonight is different. He’s worn out but his brain won’t stop, won’t grant him a reprieve. It’s cycling: The memory of Sander smiling at Britt, of them close—his mom's smile before things got bad—the way Noor has been looking at him lately, like she’s finally realizing she doesn’t know him—the shine of his mother’s eyes as she pulled chunks of her hair out, wailing—the sick pit in his stomach he gets every time the boys joke about sex—the crescent scars he saw on her forearm last week when he visited her. He couldn’t bring himself to think about it then, but now, he remembers when she started biting her cuticles til they bled, how she’d clutch her own forearms so tight she’d leave marks. 

It was always little things, before his father left. Once he did, it started small. Robbe thought she'd be fine eventually, that she was just sad, that he could take care of it, that eventually she'd get out of bed. He couldn't, and she didn't. 

He didn't recognize the signs staring him right in the face until he found her sitting on the bathroom floor clawing at her own skin. He doesn’t know when he started crying, just feels wetness.

He’s suffocating in this room. He extricates himself gently from Noor, quickly and silently maneuvers his way over her. She mumbles softly in her sleep but doesn’t stir. He grabs a pair of shoes and his sweatshirt, pads across the floor, and slips out.

\--

Robbe walks across the sand, shivering slightly. He sits and gazes out into the ocean, wonders what it’s like to be engulfed by it, just for a moment.

“Do you ever think about what’s at the bottom?” He jumps and swears. 

Sander has appeared like a cryptid out of the dark, and he’s already apologizing, eyes sincere, hands up in placation.

“I..... What?” Robbe flounders.

“At the bottom of the ocean. Do you ever think about all the things to be discovered there? We really think we know everything, but there’s so much down there we’ve never seen.”

Robbe stares up at him, at a loss for words. Sander plops down beside him and keeps talking. He can feel the early onset of verbal diarrhea but doesn’t even bother trying to stop it.

“Eight percent of the ocean hasn’t been explored yet,” Sander reads off his phone. “We have no idea what’s down there. Anything could be living there, just hiding from the world, and there’s a chance we’ll never know anything about them.”

Sander feels Robbe shiver and presses in closer to him. He sees in his peripheral vision Robbe angling his head toward him to listen as he continues rambling.

“I doubt it’s all just stuff like the monster with the light, in that fish movie. Finding Nemo. I bet things get weird down there. When you think about it, the chances of mermaids existing at the very bottom could actually be very high.”

He hears Robbe’s huffed exhale, pauses to take in the raising eyebrows and one corner of his lip quirking up in spite of himself. It spurs him on.

“What if there are little miniature versions of us down there but their lives are different? Maybe they’re down there doing everything we do, but just a few changes.”

Robbe’s got his full attention trained on him now, clears his throat.

“What kind of changes?” he rasps out, voice scratchy.

“Well obviously they’d have to have gills, for one,” Sander states solemnly.

Robbe looks down, smiles to himself. “Obviously,” he echoed. 

“But maybe they’re also down there doing whatever they want and living free. Maybe they’re taking risks without being scared of the consequences. Maybe there are no expectations at the bottom of the ocean.” 

Robbe is staring at him fiercely, now. 

“Sounds nice down there,” he mutters.

“Not so fast,” Sander laughs. “Look, I googled it and that light monster thing is called an angler fish. The place is crawling with them. If you go down there I’ll have to follow you so you don’t get eaten by one.”

Robbe finally lets out a little huff of a laugh. 

“You’d follow me?” he repeats disbelievingly, brow furrowed.

Sander looks at him again, drinks him in before smiling, biting his lip and facing forward to stare back at the sea.

He shifts his hand over so his pinkie finger is lightly resting on Robbe’s, strokes down once, twice. Robbe glances down, then up at Sander. Sander can feel his gaze burning into the side of his face.

“Yeah, Robbe,” Sander says, before moving a hand to cover his. He hears Robbe’s breath hitch.

“I’d follow.”

**Author's Note:**

> come scream w me abt wtfock and other things at phallusophical.tumblr.com


End file.
